


this is the longest kiss

by orphan_account



Series: fast blood [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts when Eames gets on one knee.</p><p>"We've only been dating for six months," Arthur says dumbly. "Also, I don't think I'm old enough to get married."</p><p>"Oh for the love of god," Eames says. "Arthur, will you go to prom with me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is the longest kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Frightened Rabbit's "Fast Blood".

It starts when Eames gets on one knee.

"We've only been dating for six months," Arthur says dumbly. "Also, I don't think I'm old enough to get married."

"Oh for the love of god," Eames says. "Arthur, will you go to prom with me?"

Arthur had never really been the type to be invested in prom. He never really considered going to his junior prom, or, figured if he did, he'd go with Ariadne and they'd sit and drink punch and mock everyone else.

Arthur stares at Eames.

Eames blinks up at Arthur.

"Seriously?" Arthur asks. "Do you have some, like, problem where you're trying to recapture your youth?"

"I'm twenty-four, god," Eames says. "I'm not forty."

"Close enough," Arthur says, and flails out of the way when Eames gets up for the sole purpose of smacking him.

"But seriously," Eames says, some time later and with both of them wearing considerably less clothes than they started out with. He's murmuring straight into the curve of Arthur's shoulder. "We should go to prom."

"Or we could not," Arthur tries.

Eames looks unimpressed with his argument. "You'd get to see me in a suit," he says.

Arthur considers that. "Okay," he says. "But only because you'll look really hot in a suit."

"That's my boy," Eames says, sounding pleased, then bites Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur forgets all about it. At least, he forgets about it until two weeks before the date, when Eames asks him if he's gotten tickets.

"You seriously want to go to prom with me," Arthur says.

"I'm being _romantic_ ," Eames says. "You should appreciate this side of me."

"If you cover your bed with rose petals, I'm breaking up with you," Arthur says.

Eames looks guilty.

"You were thinking about it!" Arthur says, aghast.

"It's romantic!" Eames protests.

Arthur stares at him.

"Fine," Eames says, sounding downright sulky. "And I suppose no champagne either?"

"By all means," Arthur says. "Drown me in champagne."

Eames pauses. "Is this some kink we have to discuss?" he asks.

Arthur smacks him.

"But really," Eames says. "I bought a suit."

"Could you just wear the suit and forget about the prom part?" Arthur asks, without much hope.

"No," Eames says. "Admit it, you're dying to show me off."

"No," Arthur says. "You're dying to show off. There's a difference."

Eames sulks. He isn't very good at it, because sulking requires silence, and Eames is truly very bad at silence. Arthur takes pity on him once he looks like he's actually in pain.

"You're paying for the tickets," Arthur says. "And you're not buying me a corsage."

"Corsages are for girls, you silly boy," Eames says, and lights up like the sun.

*

Eames picks him up in a limo, which shouldn't be surprising. He's wearing a suit, as promised, and Arthur couldn't have imagined how good he looks, all clean lines. The suit looks expensive, and the boutonnière he pins onto Arthur's rented suit definitely is, and Arthur can't help but be charmed by the spectacle of it all, Eames clean-shaven for once, Eames putting in an _effort_.

They pick up Ariadne on the way, and Eames has a corsage for her, something Arthur hadn't thought of, but should have. She beams at the both of them, and tucks into the champagne Eames snuck into the back.

"You're a terrible influence," Ariadne tells him cheerfully. "But you make Arthur smile."

"Shut up," Arthur hisses, and she tips her glass to him and drinks it all back.

When they get to the school, Ariadne is on her way to tipsy, and Arthur feels a little bright, somewhat from the glass of champagne he'd had, ignoring his parents' admonishments, and partly from the way Eames' hand had curved in the small of his back, like he couldn't help but touch him.

They eat a mediocre dinner surrounded by acquaintances who keep giving Eames odd looks, and Arthur focuses more on the way Ariadne's hands move wildly as she talks when she's had a little too much to drink, the way Eames keeps his hand on Arthur's knee under the table.

Before dinner is over, Eames has been asked for a dance by three separate girls who've never deigned to speak to Arthur in their lives, and Eames turns them all down with a grin and a wink. His hand never wavers.

Once it's into full swing, guys in ill-fitting suits and girls decked out in various shades of pastels pretending they know how to dance, Arthur gets to mock everyone with Ariadne, as he planned, until Eames hauls him up, and says "you're dancing with me."

"I'm really not," Arthur says.

"You really are," Eames responds, and that shouldn't be convincing, but Eames looks hopeful and bright, and Arthur can't help but follow him onto the dance floor just as a slow song comes on.

Arthur thinks Eames planned it that way.

They're dancing practically cheek to cheek, and Arthur can feel the eyes of the entire junior class on him. It's a little uncomfortable, but mostly, mostly he can't give a shit, because Arthur can feel Eames' heat all through the gorgeous cut of his suit, and there isn't any bit of him that's ashamed.

"It would be a terribly cliché moment for me to tell you I'm in love with you, wouldn't it?" Eames asks, low.

Arthur's heart flies up into his throat, but through it, he manages to say, "Yes, oh my god, you are the worst cliché in the world."

"Okay," Eames says. "Then I won't say it."

Arthur stops, stills, right in the middle of the dance floor. "You don't get to _take it back_ ," he says.

"Why not?" Eames says, sounding sulky. "Here I am, pouring out my tender heart, and you're calling me a cliché."

"You are supposed to be the mature one here," Arthur says, and kisses him.

Eames cups his face, with hands gone a little tender, and when he pulls back, he tucks his forehead against Arthur's, sharing breath with him. "I suppose that's your emotionally constipated way of telling me you love me too?" he asks.

"You know I do," Arthur says. "Asshole."

Eames only beams and kisses him again.

They end up skipping out after the dance, Ariadne joining them in the back of the limo while they drink champagne. They drop her off when she's wavery in her heels, pressing a sloppy kiss to Arthur's cheek, then hauling Eames in and saying something too low for Arthur to catch, something Eames acknowledges with a serious set on his face.

Then she's tripping in her front door, and Eames tucks an arm around Arthur's shoulder.

"Your curfew's soon," Eames says, once she's inside. "I should take you home."

"Fuck that," Arthur says. "There's only one prom night. Or. Okay, two, but the point is, I think you're supposed to steal my virginity, since you're already acting like a cliché."

"I hate to point out the obvious," Eames starts.

"Okay," Arthur says. "Then make me feel like a virgin. Or something."

"Are you quoting Madonna at me?" Eames asks.

"Paraphrasing," Arthur says. "And I thought I'd pick something from your era."

"Just for that, you brat, I am taking you home," Eames says.

"You're not," Arthur says. "You totally planned this night so you could peel a suit off me."

"You know me too well," Eames says wistfully.

"Eames," Arthur says, quiet. "I really do, you know."

Eames squeezes Arthur closer. "I know," he says. "Me too."

*

Arthur doesn't come home that night. In the morning, Eames attempts to make him pancakes, which fail, and takes him home in a rumpled suit, a flower wilting down his front. He gets grounded for a week.

It's worth it.


End file.
